Circles
by JYLG
Summary: AU Destiny's four brings change to the Holy Land. Revised. Fifth Chapter: Redemption's Sin
1. Beginnings

I haven't given up on this fic – I just hit a stumbling block a while (a _long_ while) back, and the plot bunnies just went hopping out the window. So I'm coming back to it now, and just bear with me a little longer. 

CIRCLES

PART ONE: BEGINNINGS

Prophecy is a child, sometimes male or female, sometimes neither, but always a child, because Prophecy is the birth of Destiny. 

Prophecy was the voice in my head at the killing grounds that day. In the madness, the bleeding and screaming, I heard only the strange whispers that brushed at my mind. And I would have left then – sane men avoid the grounds, and for good reason. The voice merely embodied the foolishness some small part of me had always believed in, that you cannot keep company so long with insanity without it touching you. 

I would have left, but I didn't, because the insanity of the voice was frighteningly sensible, in the way rainbows in raindrops are. It persisted, refusing to be ignored.

_Find me_ it sighed.

And I did.

I could have easily missed him, so small was he, but in the swarm he was an island of indifference. He was no different from the other street whelps in his grubby longshirt and bare feet, the brown hair to his waist filthy and unkempt. It was rare for children to come to the killing grounds. Rarer still was the eerie calm he showed, standing unfazed in the frenzy and fury of grown men, among them, apart from them.

_Find me_ it beckoned again, and I stirred.

Someone gripped his shoulder, to shove him aside. But the man looked closer, and eyes already glazed with the madness flared with recognition and triumphant glee. 

"One more!" he shrilled once, twice and many times, lost in the horde of shrieking and jeering. It gave me time, but not enough. The last trial performed, I stepped down from the dais, watching those closest to him finally turn and take heed.

"One more!" The man jerked the boy's arm up, almost lifting him off the ground. And the word he hissed reeked with loathing, contempt and fear. 

"_Youkai_."

"Youkai." 

"Youkai." 

"Youkai." Bloodlust makes cowards brave, and cowards are brave in numbers. The man bared his teeth in anticipation, seeing it reflected in the faces around him as they advanced.

And the boy – the _youkai_ – said nothing, did nothing.

Most jerked at the fierce report, swinging around to stare in confusion as I lowered my revolver. They retreated as I moved forward, back to cowards again. No one wanted to challenge an emissary of the Gods and risk losing what favour they might have had.

But only such men are worthy of the Gods' notice to begin with. 

It was pathetic enough to make me want to laugh. It had done nothing for me.

What was left of the hysteria had leached out when I finally walked away from the grounds, the boy trailing in my wake. Later they would become rabid and violent again, demanding to know why I did what I had done.

And I wouldn't have an answer for them. How to explain – a voice, a finding, a rightness. 

It was time to leave.

I was discomfited to find that I had returned to the inn where I was staying, the boy still at my heels  – I had vaguely intended only to take him away from the bloodshed and bloodlust. It wasn't a place for children, not human or youkai. I paused at the thought, and turned to take a good look at him.

He stopped when I did, head still bowed. I noticed then the glint of gold that peeked through his unruly hair. Running my fingers lightly around his head, I wondered at the need for such a potent ward. Power – what kind of power, to warrant such repression? – lay dormant in there, undoubtedly youkai.

Yet when he lifted his head at the touch of my hand, I realised that he was nothing so simple as a boy or youkai.

His eyes were gold and large in his small elfin-like face, the colour an uncommon one. He stared at me, waiting, and something within me recognised inevitability.

I don't make my life more than what it is; I was denied living a long time ago. What I saw in his eyes promised me value and worth beyond what I had now.

And I felt the ties I had shunned for so long ensnare me, binding me to something that I would not comprehend until it was too late.

He reached up then, and with mixed dread and wonder I bent slightly so that he could touch my face.

"Sacrifice."

One word, a mere whisper, with the meaning of my whole existence behind it. Prophecy had found me.

"You are Sacrifice."

I was Named. 

**********

I never bring much with me when I come to the killing grounds, and I don't linger once the trials are over. There is nothing to pack; I just need to settle my boarding fees and I will be done. Things will get ugly should they come and I am still here.

Yet I am curiously composed. I feel no urgency as I draw on my cigarette one last time before grinding it down on the windowsill.

I suspect it has to do with Prophecy, who is sitting cross-legged on the bed, toweling his hair dry. 

Destiny. The concept takes time getting used to. I have not lived, only existed for so long. Prophecy finding me is a laughable irony.

But I have a Destiny, and it doesn't involve being cut down by a bunch of rampaging villagers. 

~~~~

_"Sacrifice for change."_

_"And what does that mean?"_

_He tilted his head, watching me gravely from the bed. "Sacrifice for change," he repeated._

_"…that's not much help." He blinked at me, and I muttered something rude under my breath._

_I was Named. Sacrifice for change. Right. Very enlightening, that. So where do I start?_

_"West."___

_As if he read my mind. "West?"_

_He stared at me. "Go West and sacrifice for change."_

~~~~

"Are you ready?" He nods, and I wonder again at the bizarreness of Prophecy taking a shower. More fantastic still is the revelation that he is to accompany me.

~~~~

_"...say that again."_

_"I go with you." _

_"Why?"_

_"It is to be so."_

_"...that's not an answer."_

_"...it is to be so."_

~~~~

So I have yet to leave the inn because Prophecy needed to clean up first. I toss the used towel and his filthy longshirt into the laundry basket, lip curling in irritation when I recall the obscene excess the innkeeper charged me for the spare clothes. I am impatient to leave; I despise this place, and the mercenary natures that see profit in the spilling of youkai blood.

A youkai. Prophecy takes many forms, is never the same child, but to appear as youkai... it is a curious notion. And the power that I feel when I touch the diadem he wears, that thrums through his small frame...

"Do you have a name?" The question slips out of its own accord. We stand at the door, but I don't turn the knob yet. He looks blankly at me. "I am Prophecy."

"That's what you are, it's not a name. Do you have one?" I don't know why I persist, but he is not simply Prophecy given form; youkai though he is, he is still an earthly, tangible creature.

He frowns slightly and lowers his head, giving my question serious consideration. And then – it flashes across his face, too quick, but I see the tensing in his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

When he looks up at me, it is with the most emotion I have seen so far, but it is uneasy, wary, and his reply is slow in coming. "I... do not know if I have one."

He is not sure. But seeing his distress, I refrain from asking again. Instead, I open the door. 

"So, West we go then."

-TBC- 


	2. Two's Company

GENSOUMADEN SAIYUKI 

_Gensoumaden__ Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya._

A/U. Four individuals will play key roles in the change that is coming to the Holy Land. 

CIRCLES

PART TWO: TWO'S COMPANY

He does what he is told, is not prone to inane chatter, does not wander and lose himself in the thick of a crowd. He is unobtrusive and solemn, the way children usually aren't.

I am reminded often of my first glimpse of the boy who stood calmly amidst the insanity of the killing grounds. He will pause sometimes, when we walk the streets of a town, observing the life teeming around him with a pensive, detached air. And I wonder what it is that he cannot understand about living, seeing as it is Prophecy who shapes our destinies.

Right now, Prophecy is eating his way through my funds.

Well they're not mine, technically. I've never had to draw substantially on my card before, but I can be grateful now for the infinite cash at my disposal. The perks of being a Sanzo.

There's a catch, of course. This robe, the sutras, the rituals – none belong to me. Shallow minds and petty rumours envy the status – partake of the flesh of a Sanzo, and gain immortality. Stupidity. We cannot break the chains that tie us to a fate dictated by the Aspects, let alone bequeath eternal life. And for some of us, there is more to being a Sanzo.

My teacher died for me to become one. For that I will play this role as long as I need to.

"Aa, excuse me..." Damn. I've waited too long again. We have to be going if the restaurant owner has approached us. And the other patrons have abandoned their surreptitious glimpses for open, dumb fascination.

"Oy, let's go." He pokes his head out from the empty plates and bowls that have amassed on his end of the table, a meat bun still in one hand, and blinks those big, golden eyes at me.

Oh dammit. "No, we're going now." Blink, blink. It is the closest that I have seen to a sulk on his face.

"Fine, finish whatever you have left and that's it." The restaurant owner ambles off with my card, and though I am slightly irritated, some part of me cackles in satisfaction. It's not as if I don't pay the Aspects back in other ways – one day I'll pay with my life, and before then it would be a shame to not make use of what I've been given. Perks of being a Sanzo indeed.

He is still sulking when we leave. "Dumb ape," I mutter, and he doesn't bother to acknowledge me. I've taken to calling him that now – either that or 'oy' and 'idiot'. I can't keep calling him Prophecy without feeling like a fool.

I could always just give him a name, I suppose – would make it a hell lot easier. But always I remember his distress when I asked if he had one. Names shape identities and meaning, and for that reason should be cherished. I cannot name others, when I've never had a true one of my own. 

But Prophecy has Named me Sacrifice, and I am journeying West to meet my Destiny.

He's looking up at me, is so small he has to tilt his head all the way back, and I want to slap my forehead in frustration. Those damn eyes – next time, I really **will** put my foot down at each eatery we stop at. We don't need to attract more attention than we have to. And we've already had more than our share of that.

They give him away easily, the gold of his eyes. And I am getting fed up having to deal with the diminutive minds that come looking for a fight, the self-righteous bravados that want to rid society of the youkai menace. 

Communities as small-minded as that aren't worth fighting for. 

I understand the question in his face – several men have followed us out of the restaurant. I touch his head and he moves ahead of me as I turn around. I am not overly concerned about leaving him to fend for himself for a bit – never take things for granted. Prophecy, my grave, unimposing shadow, is a mean little demon in a fight. He lashes out with fierce bites and kick and punches, small and quick enough to dart through the commotion and avoid being caught. 

Guess who bears the brunt of each confrontation?

But this conflict is over before it's even begun – scant moments later I am looking past my raised revolver at the retreating backs of cowards who never thought a priest would carry a weapon on him. Their mistake. 

I ignore the furtive looks and mutterings of passer-bys – time we left the town. Seeking out the boy, I roll my eyes. He has wandered farther than usual, and I can see why – Prophecy is staring at a stall that sells an assortment of sweets. I sternly tell myself to be firm this time – it is my money after all. But his expression is thoughtful instead when he raises his eyes to meet mine for a brief second before they flick to the side.

Shit. More small fry. I push my way through the throng, feeling the beginnings of a headache. Why don't some people **learn**? 

And why is he just standing there? They trap him in a circle, the rest of humanity parting around them with blind eyes and deaf ears. Stupid town – I shove harder, glaring at the imbeciles not quick enough to move out of my way. Stupid bastards. Stupid ape. Stupid, **stupid** ape. The men have ugly sneers of anticipation on their faces. One of them picks him up by the collar of his vest and shakes him violently. And still he remains passive, and I am too far to do anything but snarl and push and grow increasingly alarmed. 

But something is happening. Another man has joined the dregs. One hand in his pocket, the other tapping the ash from his cigar, his casual pose belies the words he exchange with them, as their faces darken with outrage.

I don't see it coming. The man holding Prophecy drops him and staggers back yelping, blood already seeping through the fingers clasped over his mouth. Predictably the rest of the lowlifes jump the stranger, but he is good, landing unerring punches and well-aimed kicks. He is so swift I glimpse only the fierce relish in his expression, the rest obscured by the red hair that swings loose around his face.

The brawl takes no time at all – the boy has finally come to his senses, and chips in with ferocious abandon. When I finally reach them, the hoodlums are sniveling and wallowing in various degrees of pain in the dirt. Prophecy is standing by patiently, and I ignore my relief in favour of smacking him over the head. "Idiot!" I snap. "What were you waiting for?"

"Maa maa." I stiffen when an arm is slung over my shoulders, and I swing my head around to glower into amused red eyes. "He's not hurt – no harm done. And he fights pretty good for a kid."

But I only vaguely hear what he is saying. It is the colour of his eyes that clue me in, and I narrow my own. "Half-breed."

The smirk fades and he jerks away. "Yeah, and what's it to you?" My own lip curls derisively at his flat tone. I recognise it, the grim instinct to protect. Identities shatter easily under the weight of prejudice and hate, and some covet their identities more than others, because it is all they have. I should know.

Prophecy is tugging at my robe, and I grimace. "No, I'm not trying to pick a fight." I know now why the half-breed pitched in – if he had simply stood by, knowing what the boy was, he would have been no better than what ignorance had earmarked his kind to be. I force the word out through gritted teeth. "Thanks."

I also know now why the boy had been slow in reacting to the danger. The half-breed's stance relaxes only slightly, but Prophecy steps up to him then, and I see the dawning realisation and awe in the man's face when he bends to let the boy touch his face. 

"You are Peace – " 

– _understanding recognition unraveled bonds one two four come together destiny Destiny_ – 

"– Peace to guard change." And I blink. What the hell? But I don't reveal how unnerved I am when the man with red eyes straightens, and I see the disbelieving wonder in them. 

I know what happens now, and I scowl. One is bad enough – two freeloaders will bleed me dry. 

Great, just fucking great. 

-TBC-


	3. Three of a Kind

GENSOUMADEN SAIYUKI 

_Gensoumaden__ Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya._

A/U. Four individuals will play key roles in the change that is coming to the Holy Land. 

CIRCLES

PART THREE: THREE OF A KIND

It does not take me long to make my purchase – I am running low on ammunition, and there is only one kind that I'm interested in. The bullets that I need, lead infused with simple exorcism spells, are never out of stock, not unless there's been a sudden rash of Sanzos in the area.

Not bloody likely. 

The half-breed had been reluctant to follow me in, and I can understand why. I don't care for the store displays myself. Dispatching youkai has always been more trouble than it's worth – an economical kill leaves no mess and wastes no time.

The false power that bloodlust inspires, however, is not something men will give up willingly. There are just so many ways to kill youkai, but ten times more that to draw out the deaths. 

The boy stays close, one hand fisted in the folds of my robe. It hinders me somewhat, but I say nothing, the only sound I make a sharp hiss of breath when everything finally relaxes in light and noise past the doors, and I scowl.

Five minutes. Not even five damn minutes and already the idiot has wandered off. I touch the boy's head to still his own movements, and regretfully ponder the shame of using the bullets so soon. It is not the first time the half-breed has blithely disregarded the need for caution, but more so here is it necessary. A town rooted in the obscene lure of the killing grounds is eager to condemn, swift to murder.

I would have sooner avoided the place, but I – my fingers curl slightly in the messy hair – I still have a duty to perform. He hugs my leg in response, drawing some of the tension away when he lets go, and we move into the activity of the street. 

The boy shows no indication this time to stray. My hand still rests on his head, and I frown. He keeps his eyes down as we make our way back to the inn on the outskirts of the town. The trials will not begin 'til the late afternoon, to accommodate closing business hours, and it is a good enough place to rest and brood before I have to go about my task.

"Here." It is a hard pitch, and the weight stings for a moment in my palm. The boy turns with a grin, and I roll my eyes when the half-breed reaches again into the paper bag he holds and lightly tosses him another apple. 

~~~~

_"Peace. Huh." I hear the words but vaguely; the little imp darting through the press of bodies and stalls is easily lost in a moment's distraction._

_"Haven't had much of that in a while." My gaze flicks sideways; he is grinning peculiarly. "So, Sanzo Hoshi-sama, how does one find peace?"_

_Stupid question, to ask of someone who's never had much of his own, so I say nothing. _

_He shrugs, not really expecting an answer at all. "Peace to guard change," he muses. He slants me another look. "So what's the deal with you?" _

~~~~

I have been to the town enough times to know that the grounds' hold is not so overwhelming an influence on the outskirts, the people on the fringes seeking only to earn honest livings. It is almost possible to forget the madness here, to believe in the childish voices joined in song.

The school walls are high, the voices that pass over them disembodied and haunting. The boy pauses, eyes lifted in fascination. And I stop as well, his death grip on my robe allowing me nothing else. It does not take long to grow impatient – such naivete holds no appeal for me. 

"Ara." The half-breed kneels by the boy. "Do you like it?" Golden eyes stare back at him solemnly. A boy not a boy, who has no need of the alphabet or numbers, who has seen more age than we ever will. 

He pulls at my robe with one hand, the other stretched out as if to catch the song, and I scowl into eyes that mean too much here. Too close to the madness, too close to the music.

He tugs again, and I sigh, dropping the apple I still hold into one small, upturned palm.

~~~~

_"Sacrifice?"_ He smirks, the irony not lost on him. "Nothing new for a priest then. What kind of fun do you get giving up women and alcohol anyway? You only live once.__

_"Then again," he looks pointedly at the cigarette I hold in one hand, "I didn't think that monks smoked." _

_I don't bother responding. Not all of us are what we are by our own choice._

_"A human monk, a kid youkai and a half-breed traipsing off West looking for Destiny."__ His snort of derision speaks for the both of us. "Well hell, what do we have to lose?"_

~~~~

Insanity. Mad men climbing over each other, crushing their own in their eagerness to come close to the blood. Cowards that don't draw so near that the taint is on them when they walk away after it's over. 

Insanity. Watching and despising, believing and chasing a Destiny bigger than such weak minds and cruel spirits.

It hurts my teeth and my head; fucking crowd won't stop shrieking like fishwives. I brush through the rites – I don't want to do them, the youkai don't want them, the mob doesn't need them. Give them all what they want, and everyone's happy.

I am impatient to be leaving in the morning.

It is fitting then, that the half-breed is waiting for me outside the inn when I return, and he confirms my earlier suspicions. "Kid's sick." Right. How the hell does Prophecy fall sick? "He's sleeping at the mo' – nothing too serious. Should be fine after a couple of days' rest." Great. Should have seen it coming.

Flicking the lighter shut I breathe deep, feeling the nicotine cloud in my chest. Not for the first time we share smoke and silence in the fading light. 

~~~~

_"Can't make your own destiny if you know or have nothing to work with.__ Sucks that a kid has to do it for you." Our smoke lingers on the air of a pause, before he sighs.  _

_"Sucks worse that you can't do anything to change it. '_Cos___ it's Destiny, and you can't fight it." And he tilts his cigarette, the words like smoke touching the sky, like ash hitting the ground._

~~~~

"You've been in a bad mood since the morning." Stating the obvious.

"Why do you do it then, if it bothers you so much?" Shit. A mere two-bit gambling womanizer shouldn't be smart enough to pick up on that.

But it takes some wits to make yourself obscure in the swarm, when they could all turn around one day and realise what your red hair and eyes mean.

Can't remember what the first trial was like; they all run into each other after so long. And it doesn't matter anyway. It's the same, no matter how much time passes, and you do your part and ignore the rest, because only hypocrites kick up self-righteous fusses and not do a fucking thing about it.  

I suppose I should be bothered about the kind of company I'm keeping these days. Something else about Genjo Sanzo for the monks to mutter over in the corners of Chou An: he smokes, swears, drinks and has youkai tagging after him to boot. 

For some of the lesser monks, it's a struggle against one sin or the other; what outrage then, for a priest to embrace all evils at once. And a Sanzo no less, horror of horrors. The kicks you can get out of the smallest things.

The half-breed says nothing more – I suppose he's used to my silences by now. And we linger outside the inn in the gathering dark, smoking and watching and thinking. Eventually he drops his cigarette, killing it beneath the heel of his boot. "I'm gonna check on the kid." And for lack of anything better to do, I follow him inside as well.

I really shouldn't be surprised when we walk into the room to find an empty bed and an open window, and not for the first time, I wonder if Destiny's worth it at all.

~~~~

_"What's up with the kid anyway? What's he tagging along for? And since when is Prophecy youkai? Damn stupid joke to play, when he's going to get beat up for it on every street corner." I roll my eyes – the half-breed's been worrying uselessly at the fact for a while now. It's obvious that he has a soft spot for the boy, and they've taken to each other well. And when he sees my expression, he gives me that peculiar grin again. "Had an older brother once – don't know what happened to him." And he says nothing else, and I don't ask._

_But the shit I have to put up with – he steals food off the boy's plate, and though he is only getting dark sulks now, it's a full-out squabble waiting to happen. And I call the boy an ape, but not the way that the half-breed does, not until they are scuffling in the dirt and fall behind and I am tempted to smack them both over the heads.  _

_But the boy's smiling more, and I think of the half-breed's brother, and I don't do anything. Not yet, anyway._

~~~~

It would have been looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, but I am sure. The only light in the sky now is the odd star or two. The streetlamps are on, throwing into stark relief dark crevices and nooks that can easily hide a small ape, but I don't bother to pause and check, because I know where he is heading. The half-breed follows alongside my brisk strides as we trace our way back to the school.

I know he will be there. I distantly wonder why I am so sure, even as I wonder why I bother at all. The half-breed doesn't question it, and his acquiescence makes me wonder again if he feels the strange conviction as well. 

But we are saved the trip. About a block to the school building, an indistinct figure emerges from the grey shadows ahead of us, but there is no mistaking the boy that he carries.

"That little idiot." The half-breed's grumble echoes with relief.  

"Is he yours?" The stranger is soft-spoken and polite as we draw nearer. "I almost tripped over him on my way out; he was sleeping in front of the school's main doors." There is worry in his voice. "He's running quite a fever; he shouldn't be out at all."

It is still difficult to make the man out; he is wearing spectacles that glint under the streetlamp, and it's not until I stop a bare five meters away that I can see the calm green eyes behind the glass and the pleasant, almost apologetic smile. 

Fuck. Last thing I expected. I don't need this right now. But I cannot let this go. I hear the disbelieving sound the half-breed makes behind me when I raise my gun so that it is aimed at the man holding Prophecy.

"Cho Gonou." Understanding and recognition – sorrow – in those green eyes.

"The Gods find you guilty of murder."

It makes sense then, why I've been feeling so edgy. As we stand unmoving amidst the lights and shadows, a soft rain begins to fall.

-TBC-


	4. Destiny's Four

GENSOUMADEN SAIYUKI 

_Gensoumaden__ Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya._

A/U. Four individuals will play key roles in the change that is coming to the Holy Land. 

CIRCLES

PART FOUR: DESTINY'S FOUR

Damn idiot wants to die.

The half-breed shifts, pausing at the rough scrape of his heels on wood. It is the kind of strained silence that rejects physical sound even though the air screams with feeling. He moves again, and I want to snap at him to stop squirming; there's not much space to move around – not on our end anyway. Cho Gonou and his painfully polite smiles take up the other side of the table. It's the furthest strategic point from both the door and window, but he makes no attempt to escape. 

He sits straight in the chair with his hands clasped together on the table surface, unmoving since we first returned to the inn. He speaks only in response to my questions, giving quietly accommodating answers in his mild, frustratingly apologetic tone. 

But the words have petered out, and he is increasingly pensive, tension has turned his knuckles white, and there is a patient resignation in his eyes. He is still smiling, but I recognise the lie, and I know that the half-breed too sees the emptiness. And I want to snarl at it, want to shake the man hard until he flares at me, and I can hit back. But I know he won't care, that he'll take the abuse like the fucking martyr he is.

Damn, blasted idiot wants to die.

I turn abruptly, feeling some petty satisfaction in the sharp slide of my sandals on the floor and the way the both of them start at the sound. Cho flicks his eyes to me and beyond before dropping his gaze again, his features tightening marginally. Despite my foul mood, my lip curls slightly as I too look to the window, out into the night.

Bloody rain's still falling, and I'm not the only one who feels it. What secrets does a mass murderer keep?

It's obvious what I have to do with him now, and the realisation makes me want to smack someone over the head, preferably the boy who started this in the first place. But he's still twisting fitfully in bed with a fever, so I settle for a long, soothing smoke.  

I have to return to Chou An and hand Cho Gonou over for trial. **All** the fucking way back. 

It's not difficult to appreciate the irony; no one asks questions in a town that has more than its share of blood-letting to condemn one individual. He hides his own blood behind mild manners and high walls, doing nothing more extraordinary than teach letters and numbers and dote on his small charges. And it's not all pretense – he did not balk at my charge, could have taken off with the boy as hostage. But he offered no resistance when he followed us back to the inn instead, seeing to the boy himself before finally sitting down to my questions. 

The boy stirs again, and I watch Cho's reflection in the glass as he looks to me. When I don't say anything he turns to the half-breed for permission before rising quickly from his chair, getting away from the memories of the rain. The pathetic light of the room's sole light bulb glints off the three metal earpieces that he wears, and I smirk.

I can see the four of us trouping back to the shock and outrage in Chou An – Genjo Sanzo, with not one or two, but three youkai in tow. It might actually make the trip worth it.

The boy is fidgeting worse now – I turn around when I hear him whimper. But Cho has one hand on the boy's forehead and a half-smile on his face. "I think the fever's breaking." Good. The sooner things get moving along the better. Because once I've delivered him to the Three Aspects, I have to fucking start West all over again. I'm committed to Destiny now.

But I'm saved the hassle. Golden eyes snap open abruptly, seeking and finding startled green ones. And it suddenly makes sense, and I **really** should have seen it coming. He's tired and still a little delirious, but Prophecy grins, and lifts one hand to touch the face that has drawn closer to his own.

"Redemption –" 

– _at__ last four at last come together destiny Destiny change – _

– and Cho Gonou's expression breaks and I see grief and anger and desperation and denial – 

"– you are Redemption – "

– and I know the half-breed also feels the ties that bind and he is as shaken as I am –

"– to stop change."

And the whispered words are loud in the silence and I finally remember the room. 

I am **never **going to get used to that.

Prophecy drops his arm and closes his eyes with a sigh, and I know that the fever has broken. Cho's face is carefully blank but his hand trembles when he again presses one hand to the boy's forehead. The half-breed slants a bewildered look at me, but I do not give anything away; unlike him, it's not the first time I have been made aware of it, of something I'm beginning to feel uneasily, impossibly, beyond what Destiny has in store of us.

It has to be the illness – Prophecy has screwed up the Naming. I sure as hell am not going to sacrifice anything only to have Redemption prevent it.

But the tension has fallen away from the room, and I know the half-breed welcomes it when he kicks his heels up on the table, arms crossed behind his head. "So," he drawls. "Who's up for a game of poker?"

**********

The rusty hinges of the school gates grate harshly in the chill of early morning. "I won't be long, I just need to sort some things out." Cho moves off to the main building and I frown. I am impatient to be leaving, but he is insistent that he cannot go without leaving proper notice for the principal and instructions for the day's lessons for his pupils. And I give in, seeing in his eyes a determination to do things right, and a hint of cold, quiet resentment if I do not let him do at least this.

What kind of relief does one get from resigning the rest of life to atoning for past sins? 

Redemption to stop change. It irks me that I can't make any sense of it, and my only answer to the mess is nodding sleepily in the half-breed's arms. He's still tired even though the fever's broken, and I still have no idea how he fell sick in the first place. Then again it does not matter, because Destiny has us all now. 

Cho finally emerges from the school, and from across the schoolyard it looks like a white scarf wrapped around his neck. But scarves don't coo. And as he draws nearer, it flicks out white wings and uncurl from him, suspended lazily above his head.

"School pet," Cho says with a smile, as the half-breed and I gape at the small dragon descending gently to perch on his shoulder. "Found him asleep on the school steps when I came in one morning, and he never left after that." 

"So? Why's it coming with us?" His grin widens as he gestures for us to walk ahead of him out of the school compound. Locking the gates, he gives the creature a nudge, and it takes off from his shoulder with a gurgling murmur, sweeping low to the ground...

...and then there's a muted flare of light, and the dragon has disappeared, and the half-breed and I are staring dumbstruck at a dark green jeep. 

"I've always wondered myself why a jeep, but Hakuryuu unfortunately isn't going to give me any answers." I want to be annoyed at his mild, amused tone, but already I am thinking. 

Travelling's going to be a hell lot easier now.

And that's when the shit really starts.

-TBC-


	5. Redemption's Sin I

No fear, I haven't given up on Circles yet. Bear with me as I beat the bunnies into some semblance of a plot. And thank you for coming this far.

GENSOUMADEN SAIYUKI 

_Gensoumaden__ Saiyuki belongs to Minekura Kazuya._

A/U. Four individuals will play key roles in the change that is coming to the Holy Land. 

CIRCLES

PART FIVE: REDEMPTION'S SIN I

It's been said that Destiny is the end that begets a beginning. It is to die to the past and be free. 

It is a stupid notion. Destiny is not a release – it is a binding that explains nothing and expects everything. 

My duty is to the Aspects, but the codes and formalities of the priesthood do not fetter me. There is no meaning beyond what my teacher was to me.

The past is not so easily forgotten. 

But Destiny cares nothing for memory or reason. Which is the only explanation for the godforsaken company that I keep nowadays, and why I haven't killed anyone yet.

Which is the reason why Redemption very nearly did.

**********

I can tell that he's not having much luck, and it's not that the map's complicated. Sighing resignedly, Cho turns slightly to look over his shoulder. "Gojyo-san, it's a little difficult for me to concentrate."

"Oh, heh, sorry 'bout that, we'll keep it down."

"…should you really be tossing him around like that?" There is mild disapproval in his tone, which the half-breed waves off with a grin. "No worries sensei, the kid's tough." And round, golden eyes blink in agreement over his shoulder from where the monkey is hanging around his neck. 

Cho sighs again. "Nevertheless…" and I let out a small breath of my own in exasperation. He is easily distracted by the boy, and between him and the half-breed, the kid's going to be spoilt rotten. 

"The map?" I know that my pointed sarcasm is not lost on him, but the apology in his expression is tinged with the amused tolerance that only an experienced schoolteacher can pull off. 

It's poor vindication, but I ground my unfinished cigarette viciously into the earth anyway, never mind the waste. I can't afford to shoot anyone yet. It's fast becoming a very bad habit; I'm running out of tobacco and patience, more so the latter. Those stupid golden eyes beg to be fed every damn hour, the half-breed moron thinks he's won an all-expense paid, obligation-free vacation and the schoolteacher is prone to giving me disgustingly sympathetic glances. 

There's a reason why we're stuck in between here and there, and it **isn't **my fault.

"The map?" I say a little more sharply, and Cho acquiesces, spreading the chart out over the hood of the jeep/dragon/whatever it is. I'm not unfamiliar with the terrain, but the isolated walking trails I am accustomed to will not serve a bulky vehicle. "As best as I can tell, we're here at the moment." He points at some position along one of the marked routes, and it's as vague and unremarkable as the rest of the bloody landscape around it. More frustrating is that we have no clear destination to speak of; we've been on this same damn road for the past week only because it's one of the better drawn courses that journeys West. 

"Gojyo-san, could you bring Yo-kun over please?" The half-breed's lip quirks slightly in amusement, and I roll my own eyes. Prophecy. _Yogen_, though he answers just as well to 'monkey'. And lately he's been acting more like the latter than the former. It's a futile exercise, and we all know it, but I don't want to have to listen to Cho's inane excuse yet again that it can't hurt to try. So I indulge him his little bout of optimism and turn away to light another cigarette (I'm down to a quarter of a pack, damn it) as the half-breed saunters up to dump the boy on the hood of the jeep and pats him on the head. "Alright chibi saru, you know the drill. Give sensei here something that he can work with." 

And it's the same as all the other times. Cho's quiet coaxing has no effect as he stares blankly at the chart before lifting his head to the sun. I doubt he can properly read maps, but always, unerringly, he knows the direction. And his gold is somehow always darker, and I wonder what his thoughts are, when he turns to look at us solemnly. 

"West," he says simply, pointing ahead, and silently I echo him. "Go West for change." My least favourite phrase; I've given up long before on the notion of wrangling more out of him. Damn those stupid eyes. 

Moodily I run over the map again as Prophecy's face lightens when the jeep chirps at him and he coos back. The half-breed stretches in exaggerated motion. "Maa, well, it doesn't matter. We just keep going West, and we'll find it; what's the rush?"

The sooner we get there, the sooner I can be rid of you. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the half-breed give me a dirty look. Did I say that out loud?

Huh.

"Nevertheless…" The schoolteacher doesn't like it anymore than I do. Blundering in with the half-breed's foolhardy disregard is the surest way of getting killed. And the only venture left to us, with Prophecy unable – or unwilling – to offer us anything else. I hear their mild debate only vaguely as I consider the chart. It makes no difference if we continue along this road; that would warrant roughly another three days or so of travelling, and then…

I almost miss it, the smudge of letters and the actual blotch that is the town itself. I run some numbers in my head, and the taste in my mouth is suddenly more acrid than tobacco.

The boy shifts on the hood in a graceless, impulsive movement that draws the attention of the half-breed and schoolteacher as he latches on to one of my sleeves, and I am forced to relax tense shoulders. He blinks at me, and I am careful to not reveal my uneasiness to the other two.

To say that Prophecy is strange is redundant. He is young in all but essence, old in all but the most mundane of things. His is a child's trust in adults, a child's delight in a game of catch. 

A child's awkward attempts to reassure.

Prophecy is strange because he sees what I hide. It irritates me enough that I pull from his grip in an unnecessarily sharp movement as I point to the marked town. "This is our next stop." I draw the nicotine in deep, my amusement faint and detached when after the first glance, green eyes widen slightly with realisation before narrowing in wary suspicion. "Why?" The half-breed starts at the tight, flat tone; Cho Gonou is nothing so simple as an unassuming, mild-mannered schoolteacher, and the idiot would do well to remember that. "There is nothing for us there." 

The smoke is a curling grey that, for one very brief moment, obscures the sun's glare. And for the second time I drop my cigarette, unfinished; I have had enough of the taste. "There is."

Duty. Obligation. A fealty that Destiny cannot make me let go of. 

I regard them coolly, my tone bland. "I'm running out of cigarettes."

~~~~

_"Why do you still do it?" I have been expecting it, but a slight sense of familiarity still persists as I recall another evening and another conversation._

_This will be different however, in more ways than one. Cho does not smoke, and I wonder caustically if it is a long standing abstinence or another atonement. _

_It is also useless to assume that I can remain silent and that he will do the same. He does not share the half-breed's candid acceptance of Prophecy and his directions. Cho Gonou cannot believe in destiny; he has experienced too many endings to believe in beginnings._

_"Why do you come with us?" His lips tighten, displeased that I chose to evade his question. But it is my answer, if he can comprehend it._

_"I don't want this." He doesn't look at me, is staring at and beyond his hands, and I have a faint inkling of what he sees in them. "Redemption." He laughs, peculiar, short bursts of bitter sound. _

_"It's what you chose to become, before the boy Named you." He raises his head so that I see his eyes, wild green, angry and cold, and it is my first raw understanding of Cho Gonou the killer.  _

_"I cannot be redeemed. I will not be redeemed." And one hand instinctively reaches up to hover by his earpieces, before he brings it back down jerkily in a tight fist._

_Cho__ Gonou has left too many endings in his wake, and this is his penance. He will atone for his sins for as long as he lives, for there is no ending for him. He will not find his final redemption because he chooses it to be so. _

_"You do not believe in destiny." It is not a question; I do not deny, but neither do I confirm. "How can you still do what you do if otherwise? Why are you on this journey?" And he has thrown the question back in my face. I feel the onset of a headache. It is pathetic, the way he sees in black and white._

_"I visit the killing grounds because I have no choice." Let him disbelieve if he wants to; no one needs to know of my teacher. "I go West because I have no choice." Because Prophecy will not let go of me now. His brow furrows with startled annoyance, but I am not revealing any more. _

_The light has faded; the half-breed and the boy will come soon begging for dinner. "Prophecy has Named you Redemption." And I speak with the clarity and authority accorded my status. "Prophecy has charged you to go West to meet your Destiny. And you will do so." I turn away as he slumps against the wall of the inn. He will have much to think about tonight. _

_I do not tell him that when I face my Destiny, I shall make it my own. _

~~~~

Damn idiot didn't think enough. What of the rationality and reason to consider all possibilities? I expected better of a schoolteacher.

Only Cho Gonou is not a schoolteacher now, but the convicted murderer that I was supposed to surrender to my superiors upon capture.

I don't need it to be rubbed into my face. It's already a bitch trying to bind my arm using just one hand and trying to keep my grip on my revolver at the same time. Like hell I'm going to put it down anytime soon. 

"Oy, you alright?" Red eyes flicker cagily, but it's fucking useless trying to pick out true dark amidst the upturned crates and wooden beams from the dark that is Cho. The half-breed doesn't have enough of the youkai blood to see; if the boy had not shoved me out of the way hard or fast enough, I'd be nursing more than just a long, nasty gash in my arm. 

Right now, said boy is pressed in a small huddle against my back, so close I can feel the tremors. He does well enough in a simple brawl, but against Cho…

And he isn't the only thing I have to worry about.

Destiny has a fucking lousy sense of timing. As does the half-breed, who growls heatedly, "Isn't he going to do anything?!"

"No," I hiss out curtly. Go away. Go fucking away. I wonder if it's too much to hope that Cho gets him as well. 

"I told you." Stupid singsong lilt. Stupid smug bastard. He swings his legs in a rustle of robes and a clinking of beads, grinning down from the rafters with an eerie, childish glee. 

"I told you, Koryuu. Cho Gonou's going to kill you."

-TBC-

So, where do we go from here? Hang around and find out. 


End file.
